


'Til Dreams Do Us Part

by casbean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, But mostly fluff, Djinn fic, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Happy Ending, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-01 23:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17876885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean/pseuds/casbean
Summary: Dean’s woken up in a hospital before. He doesn’t like it, but it’s part of the job. It happens.And he doesn’t mind it as much when the first thing he sees is his husband’s face. Castiel looks terribly grim, until he notices that Dean is awake.“Heya, sunshine,” Dean grins. His vision is still a little blurry and he flexes his fingers -- they still move. So do his toes. Good news.“Dean!”Sam enters his field of vision, the weary expression on his face morphing into relief.“Thank God, we didn’t know if--”“Hey, I’m fine.” Dean manages to stretch out his hand and pat Cas’ arm. “What happened?”“You don’t remember?”“Remember what?”“The Djinn got you. He kept you for five days, and your dream made him so strong he almost killed us both.”





	'Til Dreams Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> Un beta-ed, because I have no patience. Enjoy.

 

Dean wakes up the way he always does -- pressed against his husband. Castiel never really needed to rest, and told Dean he didn’t understand it until he laid with him. But now he does. _Resting matters_ , he says. And resting with Dean matters even more. Making sure that Dean gets more than four hours is of utmost importance.

And Dean isn’t about to start complaining, not when he gets to wake up to warm, soft kisses on the nape of his neck. No when he gets to slowly emerge from sleep in the angel’s firm embrace, and turn around to see his husband’s gorgeous blue eyes gazing at him with more love than the entire universe should contain.

It’s the first kiss of many they’ll share throughout the day. There’s going to be one tasting like bacon and coffee, one slippery wet under the shower. Then there’s going a kiss that tastes like a toothpaste, and a kiss for the road, and a kiss against a wall between the morgue and a witness' house.

There’s going to be salty kisses over their fries, and sleepy kisses before they fall asleep. There’s also all the other ones, the frantic ones, the sensual ones, all the kisses they’ll share at some point today, in and out of bed.

So this is just the first one, but Dean still savours it. And he already can’t wait for all the others.

 

Sam complains about them being late for the whole ride over to the warehouse. It’s Cas’ fault. Apparently his resting time includes a lot of daydreaming about all the things he wants to do to Dean, which always make their mornings very… interesting. This one was no exception, and now Dean’s limping a little bit and wincing as he sits, but it was very… _very_ worth it.

They’re still trying to find out several missing people in the area. All clues bring them back to the same warehouse. Dean enters and feels the soft press of Cas’ palm into his own -- a little tradition of theirs. One last touch, one last glance, just in case.

And in this case, they need it.

 

Dean’s woken up in a hospital before. He doesn’t like it, but it’s part of the job. It happens.

And he doesn’t mind it as much when the first thing he sees is his husband’s face. Castiel looks terribly grim, until he notices that Dean is awake.

“Heya, sunshine,” Dean grins. His vision is still a little blurry and he flexes his fingers -- they still move. So do his toes. Good news.

“Dean!”

Sam enters his field of vision, the weary expression on his face morphing into relief.

“Thank God, we didn’t know if--”

“Hey, I’m fine.” Dean manages to stretch out his hand and pat Cas’ arm. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“The Djinn got you. He kept you for five days, and your dream made him so strong he almost killed us both.”

“I don’t remember a dream,” Dean frowns. “Not like last time. No one was alive again or whatever. Didn't wake up next to a stranger. Thankfully,” he adds with a wink at Cas, who still looks worried.

“Alright. Well. Good. I’m gonna go see about when you can check out, alright?” Sam says.

“Yeah. The faster I’m back on my memory foam, the better I’ll be.”

Dean grabs Castiel’s hand as soon as Sam is out of the room. Sam knows about them, of course -- he freaking married them -- but neither of them are big on PDA. At least in front of Sam. There have been… incidents.

“Hey. I’m okay, Cas.”

Castiel nods, staring down at their linked fingers. Dean pulls at them a little to catch his gaze.

“You know what would help me heal _way_ faster? A kiss.”

Dean wiggles his eyebrows. Cas lets Dean pull him even closer, even though he still seems hesitant. He always gets worried when Dean gets hurt. Mad, even. He says Dean is reckless, and Castiel does not accept anyone being reckless with what is his.

And that includes Dean, apparently.

“Come on. I need a kiss before I go back to sleep,” Dean mumbles. “They got me on pretty strong stuff.”

“Yes. That they do,” Cas frowns, but he kisses Dean anyway.

It’s soft. Cas’ fingers gently touch Dean’s cheek. He’s always so careful when Dean’s been hurt.

“Rest, Dean. You need it,” Cas says before one last press of his lips that leave Dean smiling.

“M’kay. Love you.”

“I… love you too.”

 

Dean is still a bit groggy when he gets in the car the next day. He didn’t suffer major physical injuries, just famine and dehydration, but being drained of his life force for five days has really put a toll of him. Plus, he’s not getting any younger.

Cas sits in the back, at Dean’s request, because he wants his angelic pillow. He plays with their intertwined fingers. Kisses them. Nuzzles in Cas’ collar. He smells good. Smells like he’s always smelled, like thunder and storms and rain. But also, somehow, like a warm sunny day, like sunshine on his face, like a warm coffee in his hands. He smells like Cas and since they’ve been together, his scent has been all over Dean. All over their bedroom, seeped into the pillows and sheets, lingering on the clothes he always borrows.

Dean’s missed it.

He hated sleeping alone in the hospital last night. Sam and Cas had work to do, taking care of the bodies, making sure the other victims were fine. But Dean’s so used to another body in his bed now -- so used to _Cas_ in his bed -- that it was difficult to find sleep. He kept tossing and turning, reaching out for someone who wasn’t there.

But it’s going to be fine now. Cas is here, holding him, stroking his hair and kissing his cheek. And Sam might stare at them a little bit, but fuck their PDA rule for now.

Dean is happy to be alive.

 

He wanted to go home at once, but the short drive to the motel has him dizzy and both Sam and Cas are unequivocal. Dean needs a few more days of rest. So Dean indulges them.

Cas is still standing at the foot of the bed with a crease between his eyebrows, so Dean tugs at his hand again.

“C’mon, gonna spoon me or what?”

“I -- yes. Of course. Let me just talk to Sam for a moment.”

He’s back a few minutes later. He carefully chucks his trench coat -- like he always does -- and Dean only closes his eyes when his familiar weight dips the mattress and he feels the softest kiss on the back of his neck.

 

Dean wakes up a few hours later. Castiel is still there, holding him, breathing against his skin. Dean turns around to kiss him, and he can feel the knot of Cas’ eyebrow against his own forehead.

He’s still worried.

“Hey.”

Dean brings his body closer, fitted against Cas’ just the way they like.

Cas always looks a little surprised when Dean touches him. They’ve been married for two years and yet, Cas still seems a little amazed when Dean reminds him of how things are. It took them so long to get here, so Dean’s always a little amazed too, to be allowed to have this.

“I’m okay,” Dean murmurs. He strokes Cas’ cheek, places another kiss on his lips. “We’re okay.”

“You were gone for five days. I thought -- _we_ thought -- that…”

“I’m so sorry, Cas.”

Castiel sighs softly against his mouth. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“You haven’t. You can’t lose me. You know that. Even death can't do us part.”

Dean kisses the last traces of worry away. And then he pulls Cas closer. And closer.

 

“Dean,” Cas pants a few minutes later. He's straddling Dean’s waist, his shirt tucked open and pulled out of his pants. Dean’s hands wander on the expanse of skin and he chases the taste of Castiel’s mouth.

“I don't think we should--”

“I disagree.”

Dean untucks his husband’s belt and pulls him down for another kiss. Castiel melts again him and makes the softest little sounds that Dean will never tire of hearing.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

Dean chuckles against his lips.

“I think we established last week that I don't mind a little roughing up.”

“I--”

Dean doesn't let him reply. He's missed Cas, missed _this_ , Castiel’s solid weight above him, his warm hands around his face, trailing down his body.

And it appears that Castiel has missed this too. The moment their bodies press flush together without the barrier of clothes, he crumbles, hips twitching, and buried his face in Dean's neck.

Cas is usually a master of self control -- to a frustrating point sometimes, when it comes to sex -- but today is different. It takes him only a few minutes to start falling apart. Dean holds him through it and follows not long after, pleasure pulsing softly as Cas kisses him slow and deep.

“I think we needed that,” he murmurs when Cas finally sits up, still looking dazed and out of it.

Cas can only hum in agreement.

 

Dean wakes up to the smell of toasts and coffee. He’s very happy to find that his legs are holding him up when he carefully gets out of bed.

Castiel is standing in front of the small kitchenette, wearing nothing but boxers and his white shirt hanging open. Dean silently walks up to him and wraps his arms around his waist from behind, kissing the nape of his neck, the crook of his shoulder where the collar of his shirt opens.

He feels Castiel tense, his breathing stutter, before he relaxes into the embrace.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

“Good morning, Dean.”

The toasts jump out of the toaster, the coffee gurgles in the cup, and Dean nudges Cas to turn around. Their first kiss of the day is soft, familiar.

“Smells good,” Dean grins when they break apart. Cas looks a little dazed, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips, his fingers light around Dean’s arms.

“It’s just coffee and toasts.”

“Mmh,” Dean hums, leaning over to steal another kiss. “Gonna have to make you some pancakes when we get home. With caramel and chocolate chips, just the way you like ‘em.”

“Dean--” Cas is getting _that_ frown on his face again.

“Hey, I’m fine.” He brushes his nose on Cas’ cheek, down his neck, feels the angel shiver. “I’m good. Standing up and all that.”

Dean kisses him before he can protest, and Cas makes a soft, keening sound against his lips. His fingers dig in his waist, pulling him closer. Breathless. Warm. Dean hauls him up until he's on the counter and Cas wraps his legs around him, arches into his touch.

“Dean. Dean, stop.”

Dean groans in frustration when the angel pushes on his chest.

“Dean.”

“What?” Dean pouts. He just wants to kiss his husband, but Castiel's hand keeps him at a safe distance, despite his thighs warm around Dean’s waist.

“I need -- we need to talk about something.”

The worst flashes through Dean’s mind. Sam is dead. Cas is dying. Somehow the world is ending again--

“What year is this?”

“What?”

“Indulge me.”

Dean’s shoulders sag in relief. Okay, so maybe not the worst. Cas is just being his weird, quirky self. And sure it’s not exactly the right moment, but Cas has never been that great with timing. Except that one time.

“2019.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“Bout ten years I'd say.”

“How did we meet?”

A smile quirks up Dean’s lip at the memory.

“Stabbed you in the chest. Unless you count before, when you, y’know, grabbed my ass in hell and all that.”

Cas’ smile mirrors Dean’s, but only for a moment.

“And how long have we… been together. You and me. Like this?”

“Pretty sure you know that even better than I do.”

“Please.”

“Three years, Cas, c'mon.”

“How did it happen? How did it change, from… friends, to this?”

Dean frowns. He's starting to be a bit worried that Cas doesn't seem to remember the most important events of their lives.

“Seriously, you don't remember?”

“Of course I do. I just want you to tell me.”

“Okay. Well. You were a dumbass, like you are sometimes…” Cas rolls his eyes. It’s cute. “Almost got killed during a hunt.”

“Like we _all_ do often,” Cas reminds him with a pointed look.

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“You used to die a lot, Cas. Used to leave me without… Y’know.”

Cas’ features fall down, pain swirls into the blue of his eyes. He caresses Dean’s jaw, kisses his cheek, presses an _I’m sorry_ into his skin.

“Anyway, thought you were dying in my arms again. So, I kissed you like this.” Dean stretches himself up on his toes to place a soft kiss on Cas forehead. “And by some kind of miracle, you woke up.”

A warm smile spreads on Cas’ lips.

“And then?”

“Then I kissed you again. But like this.”

Dean wraps his arms around his husband’s waist and surges to kiss him the way he had done that night. Hard. Cas responds eagerly, as he always does, nails raking through Dean’s short hair. His breath comes out ragged when Dean finally releases him.

“Still into that, uh?” Dean teases.

“Yes. Very much so.”

Cas gets a soft, longing look in his eyes. Something Dean hasn't seen in years.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” he whispers, like it's a secret, pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you too, Castiel Winchester.”

Cas speaks right before their lips meet again. “Winchester?”

“Mm-mh,” Dean murmurs, leaning into the kiss again. But Castiel pulls back once more.

“My name is Castiel Winchester?”

“Yeah,” Dean squints. “You changed it when we got married, remember?”

“Married?” Cas sounds breathless, and Dean’s started to wonder if he’s really faking this amnesia.

“Uh, _yeah_.” He laces their fingers together, worry expanding in his chest as Cas only seems more and more lost. “What’s going on, Cas? You been acting kind of weird since--”

Dean looks down at their intertwined hands. Something doesn’t feel right. He can’t feel what he’s supposed to feel -- the cold press of a metal ring on Cas’ fourth finger.

“Where’s your ring? Don’t remember you taking it off--” Dean raises his other hand and his heart drops. “Wait, where’s _my_ ring? Did we forget it at the hospital? Shit, I--”

“Hey guys! How’s it going?”

They both turn as the motel door opens and Sam walks in, his head almost hitting the doorframe. He frowns when he sees them, Cas still sitting on the counter with his legs wrapped around Dean and their fingers held together between their stomachs.

Sam frowns.

“What’s going on?”

“Where the hell are our rings?” Dean barks, eyes glancing between his brother and his husband. This _has_ to be one of Sam’s shitty pranks. And Dean appreciate humour as much as the next guy, but some stuff is off-limits. Sam should know that.

“What’s happening?” Sam asks, raising his hands defensively, gaze flicking between Dean and Cas.

“I don’t know, you tell me!”

“Sam.” Cas voice is shaking and his eyes are wet -- kind of like when he recited his vows. Except that his facial expression is radically different. “Sam, is it true? Are Dean and I married?”

“What? What the --  _No_. Why would--”

“Dude!” Dean exclaims. “You married us! Have you guys been cursed by a forgetting spell or some shit?”

“Dean.”

Dean turns to Cas, who looks like his entire life has just fallen apart. He pushes on his chest again and Dean automatically takes a step back.

“Dean, I -- I think that you _do_ remember the Djinn dream.”

Dean frowns. None of this makes sense. He doesn’t remember anything between blacking out on the hunt and waking up in the hospital. Mom isn’t magically alive, all their friends are still dead, and the world is still pretty much going to shit. Doesn’t sound very djinn-dreamy.

Cas steps down from the counter and removes his hand from Dean’s grip. It feels like he’s taken his heart and soul with it too.

“Dean seems to believe that we’re married,” Cas tells Sam, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“Like, you and him?”

“Yes.”

“Dean, do you think you’re married to Cas?”

Dean looks back and forth between his husband and his brother. The words he’s hearing are not fully registering. It doesn’t make any sense. This must be a very elaborate joke Cas and Sam have been cooking up together, and he wants it to be over so he can tell them it’s the shittiest prank they’ve ever pulled.

“Uh, yeah. Dude, you should know, you married us. What the hell is going on?”

Both Sam and Cas are looking at Dean with something like _pity_ right now, and Dean’s starting to get really scared. And cold, deep into his bones.

“Dean, you -- you’re not married. You’re not even together.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure we are. We had sex last night.”

Dean doesn’t miss the incredulous glance Sam shoots at Cas, and the way Cas blushes and looks at the floor.

“So you two are secretly together?”

“No,” Cas and Dean both answer at the same time.

They both exchange a glance, but Cas looks away. Dean doesn’t miss the pain in his expression.

“It’s not a secret, Sammy,” Dean attempts. His voice is shaking. “You walked in on us a hundred times! You got ordained just to do our wedding, you--”

“Dean, none of that happened,” Sam calmly states.

Dean stares at Cas, hoping for a lifeline, but the look in his husband’s eyes causes his legs to start shaking.

“We’re not together, Sam,” Cas murmurs, voice heavy with guilt. “Or we weren’t, until Dean woke up in the hospital, and he -- I thought…”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dean murmurs weakly. His hands are shaking too, now, and his legs feel right about to give up. “Cas, we got married two years ago. This is -- we’ve been -- come on, you kissed me when I woke up, you kissed me last night, you kissed me just _now_ \--”

“I didn’t know what to think,” Cas murmurs, pitiful like a wet dog under the rain. “So I went with it.”

Dean grabs the closest chair and collapses on it. Everything is spinning, his vision blurring. Nothing makes sense. Him and Cas, they -- they _are_ together. He remembers. He remembers their first kiss, down in the mud, he remembers their second, safe and sound at the bunker, smiling wide between each press of lips. He remembers the first time they -- he remembers their wedding. The cold ring slipping on his finger, Cas’ eyes, so blue, red-rimmed with tears of joy. The way he smiled at Dean, like…

Dean remembers their honeymoon, he remembers snuggling together in front of the tv, he remembers making love morning day and night, he remembers baking pies together, pancakes in the morning, he remembers their little house by the beach, he remembers…

It felt so real. It _is_ real. It has to be. There’s no way, no way that he and Cas -- that Cas -- that Cas doesn’t love him. That he never loved him.

“Please,” Dean hears himself say. “Please, this is a joke, right? Sam, come on. Don’t do this to me.” They just stare at him like he’s a homeless dog they found half dead in a ditch. “Cas. Cas, you can’t -- you can’t do this to me.”

Cas steps towards him and Dean’s heart jumps, almost dizzy with relief. He’s going to say it. That it’s all an elaborate joke. That he’s sorry. He’s going to kiss him and Dean will forgive him and--

“I’m sorry, Dean. It wasn’t real. It’s -- I wish you were right. I wish...”

Dean doesn’t need to hear more. He knows Cas -- not as well as he thought he did, obviously, but enough to know that he isn’t lying right now. This is the truth. Which means - which means that everything else was a lie.

Dean grabs the Impala’s keys on the table.

“Dean--” Sam attempts.

“Don’t. Both of you, don’t follow me, don’t -- just. Don’t.”

He slams the motel room door behind him and steers the car away, still in his boxers. Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

 

The hours of road stretching out under the tires and the reassuring roar of the engine help clear Dean's mind.

He’s starting to remember what is real now. This is real. This pain, it’s real. That happiness -- that bliss, with Cas, all those memories where he was actually happy -- those weren’t. Of course they weren’t. That’s not how his life works, and he feels like a complete fool for believing it was.

Sure he felt a bit confused when he got out of the hospital. Cas felt distant, but then in his… dream, he always was when Dean got hurt.

And then Cas kissed him. Cas said he loved him, too. Twice, he said--

That hurts even more than everything else Dean’s lost. The lies. Cas kissing him back. Cas letting Dean touch him. Cas pretending that he wanted, that he enjoyed -- Dean can't even begin to comprehend how Cas faked all of it. Why he played along with Dean’s delusion. 

Even the ten hour drive isn’t enough to bring Dean an answer to that. To why Cas lied to him, why he let Dean do things he obviously didn’t want to do. To protect him? Because he thought Dean was too weak to hear the truth? Jesus Christ, Cas had _sex_ with him. But when he said they shouldn’t, he wasn’t worried about hurting Dean. He just didn’t want to fucking do it.

Dean made him. Dean basically forced himself on him, Dean teased him and made him do things he didn’t want to do. He hasn’t only lost a husband, and three years of his life. He lost his best friend, too. How is he ever supposed to look at Cas again?

  
Dean doesn’t look up when Cas walks into his room, a few hours after he reached the bunker and collapsed into bed. But his entire body tenses up when he feels Cas sit on the edge of the bed where he’s laying, facing the wall.

“Dean.”

Dean tightly shuts his eyes. He can’t do this. Not only do Sam and Cas now know what his wildest fucking dream is, which is humiliating on a level Dean can barely begin to comprehend, but he’s fucking _heartbroken_ right now, heartbroken over things that weren’t real, memories he fabricated himself. Heartbroken over something that never should have happened.

It doesn’t make any fucking sense, but losing what he and Cas had, even knowing it was only a dream, is just unbearable.

He waits for Cas to leave, to read whatever fucking emotion he’s projecting into the room and get that he’s the last thing Dean wants to see right now.

But Cas was never good at picking up words unsaid.

“Dean, I want to apologize.”

“S’fine.”

It’s actually the exact opposite -- not fine at all -- but this is the quickest way Dean can find to finish this conversation.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry that… that it wasn’t the truth.”

Alright, that’s it.

“Why?” Dean growls, unable to help himself. He sits up, his back still turned to Cas. “Why the hell did you play along? ‘Cause if you think it helped, it didn’t.”

 _It only made it worse_ , Dean thinks. But he doesn’t say it, because that would be admitting how much pain he’s in right now because of an imaginary marriage to an angel of the Lord.

“Because I wanted to.”

The words take a few seconds to register. Dean slowly turns to face Cas, and finds the angel looking at him with… fuck, with something he didn’t think he’d see in his eyes again. Something he only saw in his dreams.

“Dean, when you kissed me at the hospital, when you… when you said you loved me--” Cas’ voice breaks around the last part and Dean’s heart misses a beat. “The first thought I had was that I had been taken, too. That I… was in a Djinn dream, too.”

“Why the Hell didn’t you try to get out, then?”

Cas tilts his head, his features going soft. His fingers are playing with a loose thread on the comforter. It’s such a human gesture and Dean hurts.

“Because I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. Even if it wasn’t real, being with you like that was…” It’s Cas’ turn to seem pained. Melancholic, even. Dean desperately wants him to finish that sentence, but he doesn’t. Instead, he swallows and starts a new one. “I had doubts, but I let it happen. Until -- that morning. It was just so… perfect. I had to make sure it wasn’t real. That it wasn’t you who was under some spell. When you said we were married, I knew. I knew this wasn’t my dream, but yours.”

Dean’s entire body goes cold, tears prickle in his eyes. Fuck, he’s literally been killed before and it hurt less than that.

“Right,” Dean manages to say. All the hope that had bubbled in his chest pops and releases ice cold in his veins.

“Dean.”

Cas reaches out with his hand, almost touches him, but not quite. He leans over, trying to catch Dean’s evasive glance.

“If it were truly _my_ dream, I would’ve remembered. Marrying you. Giving my life to you, promising to love you for all of eternity -- I would remember that day. It is not possible that a Djinn would fabricate a dream in which I did not remember marrying you.”

“Oh,” is all that Dean manages to say. His blood doesn’t feel ice cold anymore but he’s somehow still shaking.

“That meant that you were the one who was… confused. And that I was taking advantage of it by hiding reality from you.”

Dean blinks a few times to chase away the tears, but one still escapes and slips down his cheek.

“I meant it when I said I wished it had been true, Dean. All of it. I want it to be true.”

It’s a lot. It’s -- so much. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Except he’s had it before, and it was ripped away from him, and now--

Cas climbs up the bed to sit next to him against the headboard. Their thighs brush against each other and Dean struggles to breathe. It’s ridiculous. Yesterday Cas was on top of him, spilling his pleasure on his chest, and today -- today it all feels so new.

“Would you talk to me?” Cas asks. Dean feels his gaze burning the side of his face. Can feel each breath he takes pressed on his side. “I’d like to know. About… us.”

Yesterday, Dean felt like he had touched Cas thousands of times. His kiss felt like just another one, a new one, it felt exhilarating and extraordinary nonetheless, but it was familiar. It was one more kiss of a lifetime of kisses.

Except it wasn’t. Every touch was a first, and Dean missed them all. Thinking they’d done it all before, thinking they’d be doing it forever. He missed their first kiss, their first time holding hands, missed the first time they shared a bed. He missed…

When Dean finally manages to look at him, Cas looks like he understands. Like he knows exactly what Dean’s thinking.

He touches Dean’s hand, and when their fingers link together, Dean feels new all over again.

“Tell me about us,” Cas repeats.

“Cas, it wasn’t… it wasn’t real.”

“It was real for you. All those memories of us, they’re a part of you now. And I’d like you to share them with me. I want them to be a part of both of us.”

Dean shakes his head. It doesn’t make sense.

“My first kiss with you wasn’t your first kiss with me. It’s okay. I remember mine,” Cas gives Dean a soft smile, nudging their fingers, and Dean feels like a sun is trying to rise in his chest. “I was so surprised. It was tender, and you said you loved me. And I was happier than I ever remember being in my millennia of existence.”

Dean can feel a second tear rolling down his cheek. It hurts, it hurts in the weirdest of way. In a good way.

“I’d like you to tell me about yours.”

“Already told you how it happened.”

Cas smiles, squeezing their laced fingers.

“Yes, and I think that suits us quite well.”

Dean shrugs, biting his lower lip to stop it from shaking. He wants to kiss him, but it doesn’t feel right. He wonders if it’ll ever feel right, if a moment will ever feel perfect enough to have their first kiss again. For the third time.

Cas puts his chin on Dean’s shoulder. Dean can feel his breath, warm, against his neck. Can feel his soft curls of hair tickling his cheek. He closes his eyes, quickly, trying to memorize this moment in case it’s all lost again tomorrow.

“Tell me about our wedding.”

Dean blushes, his heart racing as the memories flood back.

“I don’t, um. Don’t know if I can.” He still remembers how febrile he felt, even if he knew with absolute certainty that it was the right thing. He remembers his heart, threatening to break out of his chest when he saw Cas standing in front of him. He remembers barely hearing the speech Sam had spent weeks writing, too lost in the gorgeous hues of Cas’ eyes, in the way the angel looked at him… He remembers their vows, and his heart breaks just a little bit more. “Can we… can we start a little easier?”

“The first time we made love, then.”

Dean huffs, squaring his jaw. God, that's almost worse than their wedding. It was just… No. He can’t talk about that.

“Technically, yesterday,” he says instead.

Cas rolls his eyes, and Dean resists leaning over and closing the few inches between his lips and Cas’ cheek. “You know what I mean, Dean.”

“Cas…”

“Was it bad?”

“No, it was… um.” Slow. _Hot_. Filled with a surprising amount of laughter. And tears. “It was perfect. And a dream, so.”

Cas looks down. He seems sad.

“I’m sorry,” is all Dean’s able to say.

“Will you tell me eventually? About what made it perfect? So I can… try. To make it almost as perfect when we--”

Cas’ cheek turn red and he looks away again. It’s a real fucking loss, since Dean has just very recently been able to look into his eyes again.

He nudges at Cas’ finger, and finally manages to press a kiss on Cas’ cheek. Well, kind of on his jaw, right below his ear.

“You made it perfect, Cas. Being with you. Thinking that it was real.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Cas doesn’t turn towards him, but doesn’t pull away either.

“No. But this is. And it’s even better. This is already much, much better than anything I dreamed about.”

Their noses brush when Cas turns towards him. His eyes are red and Dean marvels, again, at how tears make Cas’ eyes so fucking blue he could drown in them.

“So this is better than perfect?”

“Yes,” Dean breathes against Cas’ mouth.

And it is. It is when Cas’ lips press softly against his own. It is when Dean lifts his free hand and gently cups the angel’s jaw, feeling the sharp angle fit into his palm. It’s better than perfect when Cas lets a little sound, when his breathing changes, when Dean opens his mouth to get a little more taste of him. It’s better when Cas’ hand rests on top of his heart, grips into his chest.

This kiss -- their real, first, mutual first kiss -- is way, way better than perfect, Dean thinks when they finally break apart, lips still brushing against each other, unable to pull back further than needed to fall into each other’s eyes.

It’s better than perfect and he says so, and Cas beams, and yeah. His dream smile had  _nothing_ on the real one.

 

Dean wakes up the way he always will, wrapped around the warm body if his husband. He takes a few minutes to let it all soak in -- the memories of yesterday, of the words they spoke, of Castiel's blinding smile. Of his heated cheeks against Dean's as they swayed on the small, makeshift dance floor. Of the night that seemed endless, in the best of way. Dean takes in the their mixed scents in the sheets, the warm glow of the late morning sun through the windows. Cas' slow, deep breaths against his chest. 

He places a kiss on the back of Cas' neck, nuzzles in the soft curls there. Tightens his arms around him. He's happy. Happier than he's ever been. Happier than he ever dreamt he could be. Unlike the fake Cas in his dreams, the real one is stuck somewhere between angel and human, healing fast and barely eating, but appreciating sleep and deliciously grumpy in the morning. Although Dean's already found several imaginative ways to help with that.

He feels it when Cas wakes up. His breathing changes. His hand rests on Dean's arms, fingers stroking circles in his skin. He breathes, deep. After a few minutes -- and a few more kisses between his shoulder blades -- he shifts, turning around to face Dean.

He lifts his left hand to Dean's face, palm warm and dry, thumb stroking his cheek. Dean feels the cold press of Cas' wedding band against his skin. Kissing with such wide smiles stretching their lips is a challenge, but they make do. Their first kiss of the day tastes of stale champagne and late night sex and like the best day of their lives. 

They whisper promises against each other's lips, words of love Dean will never tire of hearing. 

"This better not be a dream," Cas murmurs, not for the first time.

Dean answers the way he always does, the way that makes Cas smile big and warm and certain once again.

"Doesn't matter if it is, Cas. 'Cause we're gonna find our way to each other in every freaking plane of existence there is. I'm going to marry you a million times over, in a million universes. You can't escape me, angel. You can't lose me. Here or anywhere else."

The kiss that answers him is the only reality Dean needs.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [here (fanfic blog)](http://casbeanwrites.tumblr.com/) or [here (main blog)](http://casbean.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> you can reblog this post on tumblr [here ](http://casbeanwrites.tumblr.com/post/183015975528/pairing-castieldean-winchester-rating-mature)


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